Chapter Four

Mixed POV

"Genesis, wake up."

Genesis frowned and tried to shut out the horribly familiar voice that kept drifting into her head. She turned her head away from it and tried to sink back into the dreams; the dreams of the nice times, when her mother wasn't quite so mean and drunk…

"Genesis, you must wake up," the voice persisted. She felt an icily cold hand on her bare shoulder. She jolted awake, jerking her shoulder away from the hand, nearly falling from the stone bench she was resting on. She opened her mismatched eyes and stared with open terror at Marak, who was looking at her with some concern. When he saw her eyes, though, he seemed to calm. He smiled and chuckled. "Silly elf," he scolded fondly. "You almost missed our wedding."

Genesis felt her shock turn to panic, and she whipped her head around, looking for an exit. There were two doors, but when she ran to one and tried to yank it open, she found that it was locked. As she slammed her closed fist against the door, she heard something clink against it. She looked down. Two golden shackles were looped around her wrists, and her feet were shackled, too. She turned to the goblin King. "What the hell is the matter with you?" she demanded.

He flashed a grin at her, pleasantly surprised. He knew she hardly spoke—he had a feeling that it was even rarer for her to swear at anyone. "It's almost time for the wedding ceremony," he said casually. "And I do believe that you'll want some things explained to you." He took a step forward, and she took a step back until she was wedged into a corner, hands behind her back. She tried to glare fiercely at him, but one look at his inhuman face made her wince and look away.

"I want to go back to the Lodge," she mumbled, blinking away tears.

"You'll never go back to the Lodge," he commented, watching as she fought for composure. "You'll be happy here," he added more kindly. "Our marriage won't be as horrible as you're probably imagining it to be."

She slid down the wall and wrapped her arms around her legs, hiding her face in her knees. "Yes, it will," she said, her voice muffled. "It'll be so horrible I'll die. I won't see the stars or my friends anymore."

He sat beside her, and she shuddered at the feel of his cold skin. She felt him stroke her short white-blonde hair, and her grip on her legs tightened. "No, you'll never be able to see them again," he said quietly. "But goblin life isn't too bad," he added cheerfully. "The King's Wife is adored by all her subjects. They adored my mother, after all, and she wasn't the easiest woman to love."

"Neither was mine," she remarked wearily. Marak glanced sharply at her. He knew, mostly. He'd seen the faded bruises on her shoulderblades, and the ones on her leg when he'd removed her shoes to place the shackles on her ankles. There was silence for a moment. Neither girl nor goblin said a word.

Then Marak announced cheerfully, "Well, I do believe that the goblin women are getting very impatient with me. They've been waiting weeks to do you up for our marriage ceremony, and I don't think they want to wait much longer."

He felt her stiffen even more than she already had. He reached to a table near them and pulled down a goblet full of potion that would take away her voice. "Drink this," he ordered. "It'll make sure you can't speak any spells during the ceremony."

"What spells?" she asked blankly, raising her head to stare at him. Her mismatched eyes made him feel like he was looking at two different people at once. He liked them immediately.

"Elfen spells," he replied with a sharp-toothed grin, "since you are, of course, an elf."

"No, I'm not," she snapped at him. "I am very much human and in no way magical. Zilch, nadda, nope. No magic whatsoever."

Marak raised his eyebrows at the distinct edge in her voice and chuckled. So, his bride had already discovered the magic and was frightened by it. This could be very good or very bad. "Well, in any event," he said gently, "the drink is part of the ceremony. And don't worry: it only steals your words for as long as it takes me to complete the ceremony."

"Great," she muttered, taking the goblet. Marak smiled; it seemed as though she'd run out of fight for the moment. He watched her take a big long gulp of it and wrinkle her nose. She opened her mouth to say something, but all that came out was, "Gehhh." She blinked in surprise and snapped her mouth shut.

He laughed as he left the room. There was no doubt in his mind that Genesis would make a fine King's Wife.

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